Jiang Zixuan’s rented apartment was on the 17th floor of an outermost building in Vialeers—a two-bedroom, one-living-room, one-bathroom, one-kitchen unit. The balcony was spacious, and the lighting excellent. From that angle, one could look directly down upon both universities, offering a panoramic view of their campuses.

After placing everything they’d bought onto the living room sofa, Jiang Zixuan stepped out onto the balcony. He turned to face Shu Yuxin inside the living room, swept his right arm dramatically to the side, and let the sunlight spill over his back, casting his face into a soft blur. Shu Yuxin couldn’t see his features clearly—only that he was smiling.

“Beloved concubine,” he declared grandly, “behold—this is the empire I’ve conquered for you.”

Shu Yuxin immediately grabbed a tube of toothpaste and hurled it at him.

Jiang Zixuan caught it deftly with a smug grin. “So, what do you think of the place?”

“It’s alright,” Shu Yuxin replied, settling onto the sofa and turning her head to take in the apartment. “It kind of reminds me of the place we shared back in high school.”

Though simply decorated, the apartment didn’t feel dull—in fact, it gave off a warm, homely vibe, like… home. It wasn’t just empty words. Though a house is an inanimate object, it can still possess a kind of soul. Think of luxury hotel suites: no matter how lavish their interiors, you never feel a sense of belonging there. After all, they aren’t meant for long-term living. As the old saying goes: “A golden nest or a silver nest can’t compare to your own doghouse.” That was precisely how Shu Yuxin saw it—comparing it to the difference between a casual fling and a committed wife.

Clearly, this apartment belonged to the latter category.

On their way over, Jiang Zixuan had already explained the background of the place. Originally, a family had lived here, but the husband had recently been transferred by his employer to another province. Since returning would be inconvenient, they’d decided to move out entirely. After tidying up, they listed the apartment for rent to nearby students. They weren’t professional landlords, nor were they desperate for money, so they set the monthly rent at a modest 2,000 yuan—an absolute steal for this kind of unit. What’s more, since Jiang Zixuan paid for a full year upfront, the owner generously “rounded down” the total, charging him only 20,000 yuan for the entire year.

Shu Yuxin couldn’t help but think that was one hell of a “rounding.”

By sheer coincidence, the floor plan of this apartment was nearly identical to the one they’d shared in high school—only the decor differed slightly. This gave Shu Yuxin an odd sense of déjà vu, as if she were still back in those school days.

Not in a bad way—just nostalgic.

“Hey,” she suddenly spoke up after staring blankly at the flat-screen TV hanging on the wall ahead, “why’d you rent a two-bedroom place? Are you sharing it with a friend?”

Jiang Zixuan sat down beside her and turned on the TV. “Nah. I just thought the place felt roomy and comfortable, so I went for it.”

“So you’re just leaving the other bedroom empty?” Shu Yuxin tilted her head toward him.

Jiang Zixuan chuckled. “Not necessarily. I could always find someone to share it with.”

“Oh… okay,” Shu Yuxin murmured, her lips pressed together. For some reason, a twinge of discomfort crept into her chest.

Though Nanhu College’s dormitories were among the best among second-tier universities in the entire city of Minghai, they were still just student dorms—nowhere near as comfortable as a private rental. If she could, Shu Yuxin would absolutely prefer living in an apartment like this. But realistically? It was out of reach. Even splitting the cost with a roommate would cost 10,000 yuan per year—an entirely extra expense that was simply too much.

The thought of her best friend someday living happily with someone else in this cozy apartment stirred an odd pang of jealousy inside her.

“Hey! You listening?” Jiang Zixuan’s voice brought her back to the present.

“Huh?” She blinked.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing—I’m just gonna use the bathroom,” Shu Yuxin shook her head and stood up.

And no, it wasn’t just an excuse to escape. During lunch, she’d downed five bottles of Lemon Vita Tea, prompting Jiang Zixuan to wonder whether she’d eaten or just drunk herself full.

She closed the bathroom door behind her and leaned against it with a long sigh.

She was acting strangely. He was her best friend—of course he’d eventually make new friends. She shouldn’t care, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that something precious was being taken from her.

This kind of possessiveness among close friends was actually quite common—it just varied in how overtly people expressed it.

Shu Yuxin almost laughed at herself.

What the hell was she being so melodramatic about? Acting like some lovesick girl.

Her bladder was now screaming for relief. She sighed again, undid her pants, and in a few swift seconds, slid them down to her knees. Now only one thing stood between her and relief: a large bandage stuck over… well, *there*. Without hesitation, she pinched the edge of the adhesive strip.

Meanwhile, in the living room, the TV played the show Jiang Zixuan hadn’t finished watching the night before—but his attention was nowhere near the screen.

His emotional intelligence wasn’t low, and he wasn’t so oblivious that he’d miss Shu Yuxin’s obvious mood shift. After more than four years of friendship, even if he didn’t know her inside and out, he could still guess what was troubling her.

He was wrestling with the same dilemma himself.

The ideal roommate was currently in his bathroom—not only his closest friend but also an undeniably beautiful girl. Unless he was an idiot, he’d have zero reason to say no.

But he also understood Shu Yuxin’s situation all too well. She probably couldn’t spare even 5,000 yuan, let alone 10,000. Truthfully, money wasn’t an issue for Jiang Zixuan—his family was wealthy, the kind of “trust-fund kid who could live luxuriously doing absolutely nothing” rich. To him, 20,000 yuan was pocket change. But money couldn’t solve everything. If he simply paid the entire rent for her, even if she said nothing about it, over time their friendship might sour. It wouldn’t feel like co-renting—it’d feel like… keeping her.

So Jiang Zixuan was trying to come up with a way for her to move in without guilt or awkwardness.

Just as he was beginning to form an idea, a muffled, distorted scream suddenly tore through the air from the bathroom.

“Aaaaah—!”

Jiang Zixuan’s expression instantly changed. He bolted toward the bathroom. “Yuxin?! What’s wrong?!”

The door was locked, and silence answered him. He twisted the handle twice, then began pounding on the door in panic. “Yuxin! Talk to me! What happened?! Are you okay?!”

Still no reply.

Now truly alarmed, Jiang Zixuan shouted, “Yuxin! I’m counting to three—if you don’t answer, I’m breaking the door down!”

“One!”

“Two!”

“Wait—no! Waaah!” Shu Yuxin’s voice finally came through, surprisingly energetic. “Don’t break it! I’m fine!”

Relief flooded Jiang Zixuan. “Then what the hell just happened?”

“I—I said I’m fine! Just… go away! Don’t worry about me!” she yelled back.

Jiang Zixuan hesitated for a moment, then slowly stepped backward as requested. “Okay, okay. I’ll be right here in the living room. Call me if you need anything.”

“I said I’m fine…” Silence lingered for a couple of seconds—then another bloodcurdling shriek erupted from the bathroom, this one even more dramatic than the last.

“AAAAAH—! WAH-YAH-YEEEEE—! …AAAAAH—!”

Standing outside, Jiang Zixuan’s expression cycled through emotions faster than a Peking opera face-change performance.

He was genuinely grateful the building had excellent soundproofing—otherwise, he’d probably be getting tackled by the police any second now.